


Lines in the Sand

by fragrantwoods



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Caprica, after rescue from the firing squad, for bsg-kink  title prompt "Lines in the Sand"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines in the Sand

She should wait. But she won’t. Bill is coming, she knows it, feels it…but he’s not  _here._  
  
And Tom is.   
  
She almost died with this man, and the need to prove to herself that she’s not dead, she’s bruised, and battered, and terrified, but she’s not dead, not today, is burning hot from the inside out.   
  
Their bodies had tumbled together, hitting hard and rolling in the road dust. And for that minute, she’d felt him warm and living, strong and male against her. His hot breath had rushed against her cheek as they’d rolled together. And when it was over, she’d looked back at the twisted, writhing lines in the sand that had almost been their last resting place. The lines that had almost outlined her death, and his.   
  
Things are happening fast, but not fast enough. She needs it now, needs to feel life, needs to lose herself in living. They have left her cot pristine, the cot where she…the cot that’s not for them, for this. The dirt floor is good enough.  
  
Tom is surprisingly hesitant, and he’s the one who whispers Bill’s name first, just before she twists his collar and bite-kisses his lips, silencing him with her tongue.  _Later,_  she hisses, as she grabs his hand and starts moving it to the open vee of her shirt. He’s baffled but not stupid and pulls one breast out of her bra, sucking and squeezing like he’s a horny teenager getting lucky for the first time.   
  
She’s humming with approval, nosing his shaggy hair out of the way so she can lick and bite the side of his neck. Her stomach tightens when he slides his hand under the waistband of her pants, and she hopes he’s good at this. Then his fingers start moving against her, the middle ones slowly entering her while he works the heel of his hand against her clit.   
  
When she reaches inside his pants, he’s hard and slick already at the tip, and it’s easy to take long strokes up and down his shaft. He fucks her hand with practiced twists of his hips and she wonders…no, she  _knows_  he’s experienced with the furtive pleasure of hands in the dark. The thoughts of what he’s probably done in prison are dirty and hot and it makes her clit throb against his touch.   
  
Her strokes become longer, caressing his balls and the hot clenching opening behind them, and he starts to shake, his hand vibrating against her pussy and his fingers raking against her heat.   
  
There are still more lines to be crossed here, and they could stop, spill against each other like this, and leave some lines intact. She’s close, and so is he, and it would be a release, it would be good enough.   
  
She sees those marks in the sand again, showing where they’d almost died together. And her hand is off his cock and shoving his pants down his thighs while she whispers “Frak me. I want you to.”   
  
He’s whispering “Are you sure?” while he’s pushing her clothes out of the way, and waits for her nod before he plunges inside her like it’s his first time and last time rolled into one.   
  
She wants this to be Bill, she really does, and she’s crossing a line here that she expects she’ll feel bad about later, but it’s not later, it’s right now. She’s bucking hard against him, and he’s almost brutal, meeting her stroke for stroke. She feels a hot splash against her cheek and wonders if it’s sweat or tears.  
  
He’s working hard, then his breath hitches, and she knows he’s erasing his own lines in the sand. She gives herself over to the physical, and they race to their separate finishes, their bodies drawing new lines in the dirt of her tent floor. 

 


End file.
